14

 After regaining his composure, Sato Satoru dragged his exhausted body to the restroom door and knocked lightly.

"Megumi, let's go turn ourselves in," he said, tiredly leaning against the door, his face pale.

"I'm not Kawashima Megumi, don't call me that." Akira was still struggling with her emotions, her voice a bit hysterical.

Sato was taken aback for a moment, then forced a helpless smile. "You are Megumi, no matter how you've changed, I will always recognize you."

"I've already told you I'm not!" Akira suddenly flung the door open, a glint of cold steel flashing in her hand as she pressed a dagger against Sato's neck. Her breathing grew rapid, her eyes filled with complex emotions—anger, confusion, bewilderment, and a hint of pain lurking deep within.

"I'm sorry, Megumi." As he felt the blood slowly trickle down his neck, he smiled with relief and gently brushed Kawashima Akira's bangs aside. "That day, Suzuki Misaki told me she wanted to give you a gift but didn't know what you liked, so she asked me to go pick something out with her to surprise you. I believed her and went to meet her. I wanted to explain to you afterwards, but you never gave me the chance. I don't blame you; I just hope you know that I've never betrayed you. Megumi… you've always been very important to me."

Hinata Haru, watching from the side, yawned. "Are you two done yet? I had no idea you were the type who liked to use sweet talk, idol. Are you going to kill him or what? Let him go call the police, and then you'll be honest."

Kawashima Akira's gaze hardened, tightening her grip on the dagger. With a muffled grunt from Sato, he fell to the ground, and the shrill sound of police sirens filled the air.

Hinata Haru scoffed. "I thought he was deeply in love with you, but it turns out he just wanted to send you to the police. Oh idol, how many heroes have fallen because of 'love'? You'd better not end up like them; otherwise, I won't respect you."

Akira lowered her head slightly to look at the dagger in her hand, a cold smile forming. "Deep affection?" she whispered, her voice laced with self-mockery. "It's nothing but cowardice and betrayal." With that, she quickly slipped back into the hall, dragging Suzuki Misaki's body into a nearby thicket, hiding in the darkness. Hinata Haru, sensing the gravity of the situation, had no choice but to retreat. By the time the police arrived, it was already too late—only corpses and pools of blood remained. Some officers could not handle the scene and bent over to retch, and even Watanabe Makoto, who had years of experience, lost his composure, angrily punching the nearby marble wall. The forensic expert immediately conducted a preliminary examination of the scene, and the faint scent of blood drove everyone to the brink of insanity.

"The blood is still warm." He lifted his head, glancing at the investigation team, and quickly concluded, "The murderer must have left not long ago; they can't have gone too far."

Hearing this, Watanabe Makoto immediately ordered, "Split up and search the surrounding dense forest; we cannot let the murderer escape again!"

The forensic expert stood up, removed his bloodstained gloves, and pointed at the corpse on the ground, continuing, "The depth and angle of the wounds indicate that the killer used a very sharp small dagger, and their technique is very skillful; the cutting was extremely fast. Especially this male corpse," he pointed to the body of the boy who had previously choked Suzuki Misaki, "the wounds on the arms are cleanly done, showing almost no mess, indicating that the killer was calm and precise when committing murder."

Watanabe Makoto furrowed his brow, staring at the body on the ground, a glint of coldness flashing in his eyes. "This isn't the first time we've seen this technique; it's consistent with several previous cases. This time, we must catch her."

"Kawashima Megumi." Watanabe's tone was filled with determination and hatred, as if this name had weighed on his heart for a long time.

"Captain Watanabe," a young officer hurriedly approached, "new bloodstains have been found near the villa, leading deep into the woods; it should be the route the murderer escaped."

Watanabe quickly made a decision: "Chase! We must catch her!"

In the darkened thicket, the cold wind rustled the leaves, as if whispering secrets. Kawashima Akira quickly hid Suzuki Misaki behind a concealed bush, her face expressionless, only her eyes showing a hint of vigilance and murderous intent. She quietly stood behind a large tree, adjusting her breath, always ready for the next move.

In the distance, the flashlight's beam flickered on and off, and Akira remained motionless, observing her surroundings. The darkness of the woods was her best cover. Suddenly, she heard the sound of leaves being trampled in the distance, along with a few faint whispers. Someone was approaching.

Meanwhile, Hinata Haru was hiding deep in another part of the forest, rolling his eyes at a branch and muttering to himself, "This girl really messed up this time. Ugh, I really don't want to get involved in this." He pulled out his phone to check the time, hearing the police footsteps getting closer. Reluctantly, he turned and fled deeper into the woods.

"There are signs of trampled grass here; the murderer is nearby!" Watanabe Makoto's voice came through the radio, sounding incredibly determined.

Kawashima Akira observed the police's movements from behind the tree, noticing that Watanabe and his team had clearly split into several groups, gradually closing in. Akira's gaze flickered slightly, deep in thought. Looking at Watanabe, who was close by, Akira remained calm; he knew he had to stay composed to seize the opportunity to escape.

In the thicket, Watanabe Makoto's expression was focused as he swept his flashlight around. A hint of excitement flickered in his eyes, knowing he was getting closer to Kawashima Megumi. He cautiously navigated through the woods, his flashlight illuminating a small patch of dim jungle. Suddenly, a nauseating stench wafted through the air. He frowned, warily glancing around. At that moment, a corpse suddenly fell from the tree, crashing down right next to him. Watanabe instinctively took a step back, his gaze landing on the mangled body.

It was Suzuki Misaki.

Her face was completely contorted, half of it gouged out by a blade, barely recognizable. Her eyeball had been dug out and hung beside her cheek, as if it could fall at any moment. Her tongue had also been forcibly pulled out, hanging long and dripping blood onto her clothes. Her abdomen was torn open, exposing her insides to the air, giving off a foul odor. Her body was covered in wounds, her limbs contorted unnaturally, like a discarded rag doll.

Watanabe Makoto gasped, gripping his gun tightly as his breath quickened. This brutal method of killing could undoubtedly be traced back to Kawashima Megumi—no, or rather, this person calling herself "Kawashima Akira"—was known for such cruelty.

"Damn it…" he murmured, a mix of anger and fear coursing through him.

Before he could react, a chilling laugh echoed in the air.

"Mr. Watanabe, what's the matter? Scared?" a low, icy voice suddenly came from behind him.

Watanabe Makoto turned sharply, only to see Kawashima Akira standing behind him like a ghost. Her face was pale, her lips slightly upturned, and her eyes held a cold murderous intent. Those sharp eyes seemed to pierce through his soul, carrying a silent threat.

"Kawashima Megumi…" Watanabe gritted his teeth, aiming his gun directly at her chest.

"Oh? You know my sister's name?" Akira sneered, casting a disdainful glance at the gun in Watanabe's hand, her eyes filled with mockery. "Let me tell you a secret, I am not Kawashima Megumi; I'm Kawashima Akira. As for the Kawashima Megumi you speak of, she has long been dead, and I have come to do what needs to be done in her stead."

"What nonsense are you spouting? Just stop and come back to the police station with me. Continuing down this path will only lead to your destruction!" A hint of confusion crossed Watanabe's face, but he didn't take Akira's words to heart.

"Destruction?" Akira scoffed, taking a step forward, seemingly unbothered by the threat of the gun. "The ones who deserve destruction are those wretched people; the debts they owe will eventually be repaid. I am settling the score with this world."

"You have no way back! You're heading for self-destruction!" Watanabe pointed at the corpse of Suzuki Misaki on the ground, shouting angrily, "These people died so tragically because of you, and you feel no remorse?!"

"Remorse?" Akira paused, his gaze suddenly turning as cold as iron. "If you had been trampled, humiliated, and tortured to despair by those people like I was, would you still ask such a question?"

As soon as he finished speaking, Watanabe suddenly fired his gun, but Akira moved like lightning, his figure flickering as he vanished from his original spot. Before Watanabe could react, Akira appeared beside him like a ghost, kicking toward his gun-wielding wrist. The gun flew out of his hand and fell into the grass.

Watanabe was startled and immediately swung his fist at him. Akira easily dodged and swiftly countered. The two engaged in a fierce hand-to-hand battle in the dense forest. Watanabe was skilled, and his punches and kicks were fierce, but Akira's speed was so quick that he couldn't catch him. He was as agile as a snake, with every attack precise and deadly.

After several rounds of grappling, Watanabe gradually began to tire, sweat dripping incessantly from his forehead. Akira seized on a flaw, quickly driving his knee hard into Watanabe's abdomen. Watanabe grunted, staggering backward. Akira grabbed his shoulder and forcefully threw him to the ground, pressing his dagger against his throat.

"You've lost, Mr. Watanabe." Akira gasped, a hint of victorious smile on his face, the dagger drawing a small line of blood on Watanabe's throat.

Watanabe breathed heavily, his gaze still resolute. "Kawashima Megumi, even if you kill me, it won't change anything... The law will eventually catch up with you."

Akira sneered coldly, loosening his grip just a bit as he whispered, "Maybe, but unfortunately, the first person to catch up with me won't be you."

Akira looked down at the fallen Watanabe, his eyes cold and devoid of mercy. The corners of his mouth slightly curved, as if this hunt were merely a meaningless game.

"In light of the fact that you're not a bad person, I'll give you a quick death. Do you really think the law will deliver justice for people like you?" he mocked, his voice dripping with endless sarcasm. "You're merely cowards hiding behind hypocritical morals, binding true justice with rules and regulations. Unfortunately, all of this ends with me."

Watanabe gritted his teeth in pain. Despite being in peril, his remaining consciousness compelled him to meet Akira's gaze defiantly, his voice hoarse but firm. "Your hatred for this world will only lead you into the abyss. Kawashima Megumi, you can escape, but you will never escape your own conscience."

Akira's gaze suddenly turned cold, and he pressed the dagger a bit harder, creating another tiny wound on Watanabe's throat. She leaned closer, lowering her voice to coldly say, "I told you, I'm not Kawashima Megumi. She's already dead. Standing before you now is Kawashima Akira, and I will personally make those who harmed her pay the price, including you."

Watanabe summoned his last ounce of strength to retort coldly, "You can't escape forever. One day, the truth will drag you down into the abyss."

Akira chuckled lightly, standing up and spinning the dagger in her hand, her gaze cold and filled with disdain. "The abyss? I've long been in the abyss. Now, I'm just bringing more people with me."

Before she finished speaking, Akira's figure swiftly vanished into the shadows of the forest, leaving the gravely injured Watanabe on the ground, a faint trickle of blood winding around his neck. He struggled to rise, but the excruciating pain made it nearly impossible to move. Blood flowed slowly from the wound in his throat, and his consciousness began to blur, the images before him growing increasingly unclear. He knew that by the time other officers arrived, Kawashima Akira would have long since vanished without a trace.

As Watanabe's consciousness began to fade, the fragments of their earlier conversation echoed in his mind: "Kawashima Akira… not Kawashima Megumi?" This information struck him like a bolt of lightning through his thoughts. He understood he had to survive; he had to convey this crucial clue. Gritting his teeth, a final flicker of hope ignited in his heart. Despite his injuries, he gathered every ounce of strength and slowly crawled toward the intercom that had fallen beside him.

Meanwhile, Kawashima Akira had already disappeared into the shadows of the forest, moving quickly and lightly. He knew that even if Watanabe was still alive, he could no longer pursue her. He took out the notebook from his waist that recorded the countdown to death, flipping to a page and skillfully sliding his finger across a list of names, finally stopping at "Watanabe Makoto."

"The time isn't up yet," he murmured softly, sneering, "but there's no need to wait that long; he brought it upon himself."

Akira closed the notebook, his gaze resolute and indifferent. His mission was far from over; none of those who had once plunged his sister into despair would escape.

Akira quietly moved through the dense forest, the sunlight filtering through the gaps in the treetops falling on him like his only companion. The image of his sister's face resurfaced in his mind—the once gentle, kind, and hopeful sister had long since vanished into the darkness.

At that moment, Akira suddenly felt a strange chill. He turned abruptly and found Hinata Haru had reappeared behind him, seemingly emerging silently from the darkness.

"Truly worthy of an idol, you managed to defeat the notoriously swift Watanabe Makoto," Hinata Haru's voice carried a hint of mockery, clearly appreciating Akira's earlier performance.

"Hmph." Akira snorted coldly, unwilling to say much. He had never had any good feelings toward this guy who always watched from the sidelines.

"However... I gathered from your earlier conversation that you're not 'Kawashima Megumi,' are you?" A playful smile appeared on Hinata Haru's lips. "You call yourself her brother, Kawashima Akira?"

Akira frowned, showing signs of impatience. He didn't like this question, nor did he appreciate Hinata Haru's constant attempts to pry into his secrets.

"That's none of your business," she coldly replied, her tone conveying a refusal to engage.

Yet Hinata Haru seemed unfazed by her indifference, as if he had already obtained the answer he sought. He murmured softly, "Indeed, every genius is a madman..."

He sighed, turned, and vanished back into the night, as if he had never appeared.

Not far away, Watanabe was lifted onto a stretcher, the lights of the ambulance piercing the night, and the voices of the police grew nearer. However, Kawashima Akira had already vanished deep into the woods, as if he had never existed.

Akira quickly crossed through the woods under the cover of darkness, his heart racing, the tension in his nerves finally making him feel a twinge of fatigue. This game of chase, hatred, and revenge seemed to have no end. He stopped, leaning against a thick tree trunk, the cold wind brushing against his face and tousling his hair. He watched the flashing red and blue lights of the police sirens approaching closer, and a sudden wave of fatigue unlike any he had ever experienced surged within him.

It was a weariness buried deep in his heart, as if spreading from the depths of his soul. He had once thought revenge would bring him satisfaction, but now, standing in this silent forest, he felt an endless emptiness. Akira felt as if a great stone was pressing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

He recalled his sister Kawashima Megumi's face—once gentle and smiling, now long lost in the dust of time and death. Her death was the starting point of all his actions. He had believed that by killing those who harmed them, he could find release, he could attain inner peace. But reality proved him wrong. The thrill of each kill was but a fleeting moment, followed by deeper pain and confusion.

"What am I even doing?" Akira whispered to himself, his voice laced with an indescribable exhaustion.

He looked down at the dagger in his hand, the blade still stained with Watanabe's blood, glimmering coldly. It had once been his most trusted weapon, accompanying him through countless bloody nights. But now, the knife felt so heavy that he could barely hold it. Akira's fingertips began to tremble, as if even his last ounce of strength was slowly seeping away.

"Sister..." he murmured softly, gazing up at the pitch-black night sky, a hint of confusion flashing in his eyes. "If you were still here, would you want me to continue?"

Akira's heart was filled with contradictions and conflicts. Hatred and love for his sister intertwined, tearing at his heart. Suddenly, he felt a sense of emptiness, as if all his efforts and schemes over the years had been in pursuit of a meaningless illusion.

"Maybe I should stop," Akira took a deep breath and finally made his decision.

He stood up straight, sheathing the dagger, and his steps were no longer in flight but slowly headed towards the sound of the police sirens. With each step, it seemed his heart lightened, as if the burdens of many years had finally been lifted. He no longer evaded nor resisted. The once formidable and ruthless "Kawashima Akira" seemed to fade away in this silent forest, leaving only an exhausted soul longing to end it all.

As the voices of the police grew closer, Akira emerged from the trees and stood within the beam of light. He lifted his head and looked at the officers rushing towards him, his eyes devoid of anger or hatred, filled only with a calm resolution.

"That's her! Capture her!" one of the officers shouted.

Akira did not move or resist; he allowed them to pin him to the ground, the handcuffs coldly locking around his wrists. He bowed his head, his long hair covering his face, but there was no struggle in his eyes.

"It's over," he told himself inwardly. He no longer cared about what came next, be it trial or imprisonment.

Kawashima Akira felt an unprecedented sense of relief, as if he had finally freed himself from the endless cycle of hatred and pursuit. The sound of the sirens was still piercing, the police lights still flashing, but his heart was as calm as water.